Christmas at Downton 1921
by Zip Goes A Million
Summary: It's Christmas in 1921 at Downton Abbey and Mary narrates what happened on that day. There are ups and downs and a few tears, and of course, the annual Crawley Christmas argument, but what would Christmas be without all that at Downton Abbey?


**Christmas at Downton 1921**

It was Christmas day. I suppose it was... 1921? Yes, it must have been, now that I think about it. There certainly were a few differences to the Christmas a few years before, and not all for the better. Although in 1919, Sybil wasn't with us at Downton, we knew she was safe, and we could be pretty certain she was happy – she was with her husband and was living how she had chosen to live, she was her own boss and that's what she'd always wanted – her independence, but in 1921 she wasn't there at all – not with us and not with Tom. She'd died in the summer of 1920. But we still had Tom and their daughter, so in a way, I suppose Sybil _was_ still there – in spirit, even if not in reality. Now then, in 1919, I was engaged to a man called Sir Richard Carlisle, who, quite honestly, I didn't love as much as I should have done, considering we were planning to get married. I think I did love him at first, but by that Christmas he was beginning to get on my nerves and I could easily have thrown him in a river! And actually, I did get rid of him not long after that Christmas, but that's not something to go into now. So things changed for me in those two years. Between Christmas 1919 and Christmas 1921 I threw Sir Richard out of my life, got engaged, got married and made a life for myself. Edith hadn't really got anywhere. In that one year span she had also got engaged and had her wedding, but she never actually got married. She became a journalist for a newspaper and certainly had her fair share of ups and downs in both her job and her love life and actually, come to think of it, her life in general, but honestly, it doesn't surprise me. The poor girl had never been lucky – not with love. I think love changed me. If I weren't in love now, and weren't married, then I probably couldn't care what Edith was going through, but I _am_ in love, and I _am_ married, which I think has made me a nicer person to be around, which I think is actually a good thing – especially for Edith, who seems to be getting worse. I do so hope she finds love soon – it's about time for her. We'd had differences with the servants, too. In 1919, Bates was locked away from his life, convicted for a murder he didn't commit, but he was back now and living with Anna in one of our cottages. We'd also got a few more servants. We had two new footmen, who seemed nice enough, although one was remarkably tall, and the other won his job over the other candidates because of his looks alone, and we had a new house maid, too, but I hadn't ever spoken to her properly – I'd welcomed her when she arrived, but since then all I had done was seen her in corridors going on with life and asked her for some tea.

Anyway, so it was 1921 and Christmas. Aunt Rosamund was there, Granny was there, Isobel, mama and papa, Edith, Tom, little Sybbie, Matthew and myself. We were having a great time, as we always did at Christmas, but I wanted a couple of moments alone with Matthew. So, after we had had our lunch and opened all the presents and everyone was just having a chat – mostly about little Sybbie – I took Matthew into the great hall and lead him to stand by the monumental Christmas tree we have there every year. I knew no one was about, so being out in the open wasn't a problem. But Matthew didn't know why I'd dragged him out, so he was slightly terrified (which I could see in his eyes) and asked me, "What's wrong?" And as much as I wanted to answer with, _Nothing, darling_, I couldn't. I kissed him instead, which I think was actually more of the sort of thing he wanted as definite reassurance, so it wasn't too bad in the end, but after I'd kissed him to stop his worrying I kept close, I didn't back away at all and he didn't show any signs of planning to let go of my waist either, so the feeling was clearly mutual. I looked him in the eye and said rather sheepishly,  
"Matthew, I need to tell you something." All he did was look at me with a loving sparkle in his eye and said nothing, letting me finish, so I took a deep breath and then said, "I'm pregnant." I didn't know what his reaction would be – it's not like I had any experience; I'd never been pregnant and I'd never told Matthew anything as big as that – apart from about Mr. Pamuk, but that was before I was certain he still loved me, so it wasn't so hard, but this was important and I was petrified for what his reaction might be, so I was beginning to decipher how he may have been feeling when I dragged him out into the hall. I knew he wanted children and was beginning to see the importance of a decent heir to the estate, but even so, I was still worried for his response. I waited for an answer, and thought I'd be waiting a lifetime – that's what always seems to happen in books and in theatre productions, but in actual fact he kissed me rather quickly after he'd been told, which surprised me. Of course, I returned the favour, happily and when he'd finished with his answer he just looked at me and smiled. So I said, quietly and timidly, but smiling, "Merry Christmas, Matthew!" Then he said,  
"I love you, Mary, my darling. And I've been waiting to hear you say those words for months!" And, of course, I, naturally, began crying, but Matthew was so remarkably (but, let me add, not unexpectedly) wonderful about it and didn't step back, but came closer to me and comforted me with a protective arm and a soft voice, which helped as I buried myself in his arms. The strange thing is, though, the one thing I always remember about that moment was when the door to the sitting room opened and there came a cheer from everyone else, who apparently, as we know now, were playing Charades (a traditional game for Christmas at Downton), and the footsteps of Tom, who was on his way upstairs, but stopped once he saw us standing as one by the tree and asked us – or rather, said to Matthew,  
"Matthew, is everything okay?" So, we both turned around to face Tom, but I'll never forget the way that Matthew kept his hand firmly and protectively, yet lovingly and gently around my waist. I just wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and smiled, and Matthew said to him,  
"Yes, we're fine – really, we're not getting emotional over something terrible. Quite the opposite, actually." So Tom showed his gladness with,  
"Glad to hear it. I suppose I should leave the pair of you alone." And he continued upstairs, with an understanding of when is best to leave a couple alone – back in Ireland he'd had people around Sybil and himself all the time, so probably understood that when you want to be left alone it really is best to be left alone. Matthew turned to me and wiped away the remaining tears falling down my cheeks. I gave him another kiss before he suggested,  
"Why don't we go back and play charades with the others? Your performance last year was unforgettable with _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_!" I giggled a little and kissed him again and said with a laugh,  
"How do you remember things like that? Apparently I had _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_ last year, but I don't remember it!" He answered my comment with,  
"Because I loved you back then as much as I do now." He finished his remark with a kiss, which I returned, fitting with the Christmas spirit and with the fact that I loved him as much then as I love him now, and finished with,  
"I love you, Matthew Crawley. So, remarkably much." And I eventually took his advice and let him lead me into the sitting room with his comforting hand feeling warm on my back, which I was ever grateful for.

So, we went back into the sitting room, which may have been a mistake, now that I look back on it. We were greeted by a cheer as Granny had just guessed papa's acting out of _A Christmas Carol_, when Edith spotted the pair of us walk in and said to me, "Mary, have you been crying?" So, naturally, everyone suddenly looked at me and got worried, as my eyes were still watering, my cheeks were still slightly damp and I was still quite a bit pinker than I would normally have been. And, of course, I had to answer, even if only out of politeness, so I said to everyone,  
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. There's really nothing to worry about." Matthew and I then went to sit down and we got on with Charades. It was Edith's turn for Charades and she managed to act out _Around the World in Eighty Days_, which she seemed to enjoy, which I was pleased about, as she needed something good – to keep her mind off... well, life. We played Charades for hours and it finished with me and _Wuthering Heights_, which I regretted choosing soon after, but I suppose I lived through it, and mama eventually guessed it, much to my relief. Once we'd finished we talked, which turned into a heated discussion, which turned into our inevitable, traditional, classic Crawley Christmas argument, which, let's be honest, we had all been waiting for – it was the one time of year when we all wanted an argument and were all prepared to give everything we had to win, and it was usually something entirely trivial that we somehow all got very passionate about and far too competitive with. That year it was about the need for servants. Normally we have a clear split – for and against, but in 1920 we had a slightly wider spread, but only really because _I_ was stubborn and had no idea which side to take. Matthew thought that they are useful, but that we really didn't need so many, which he was backed up with by both Tom and his mother (and if Sybbie could talk and argue, no doubt she'd be on their side, too), and everybody else thought that they were brilliant and gave some fantastic arguments for why we needed them, but I was stuck in the middle. You see, when I was a little girl, I spent a lot of time with the servants – especially Carson. And I never really had an opinion on them until I met Matthew, and since I've known him, he's influenced me. I've grown up with servants, so I've developed a respect and likeness for them, but Matthew had also brainwashed me a little by that Christmas into thinking that a simpler life might be a decent idea. So, I wasn't getting anywhere and I knew that no matter what I did, I'd be hated by at least one person by the end of the day, so I excused myself and aimlessly walked into the hall, loitering, waiting for something interesting to happen.

Mama came out to find me, which wasn't exactly the sort of interesting I was expecting, but it wasn't a bad thing, or so I though at the time. She asked me why I had been crying before Charades. I had no idea how to answer it, so I didn't answer which led to mama looking at me in an, _I'm your mother, I know what's going on_, type of way, and since I tried to ignore it, she decided to say to me, "Come on, Mary, what's wrong?" To which I said,  
"Nothing's wrong, mama. If anything, nothing could be more right." And I think that's what gave me away. I'm pretty certain she had an idea of what may have been happening, but that sentence confirmed her thoughts I think. She suddenly had a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she asked me,  
"Mary? Are you pregnant?" I was paralysed. I couldn't do anything but nod. She gave me a hug and said, "Oh, my darling girl!" before hurrying into the sitting room. I just stood, leaning against a column in the main hall near the tree with my arms folded, waiting and dreading for someone else to rush out, which would, inevitably, happen – knowing what my mother was like. Matthew came out first and gave me a kiss and a protective hand on my waist, which was just the comfort I needed at that point. I knew I had to tell him that mama knew, so I sort of stammered a little and found some way to say, "Mama knows about..." But Matthew just looked down at my stomach and back up at my eyes and I nodded at him. Everyone came out and hurried towards us. Mama had clearly told everyone, so I looked sheepishly at them and I'm almost certain I went bright crimson, which wasn't helped by Matthew's hand on my waist, but it was some comfort, which I believe was the purpose of his hand there in the first, which I cherished. So I was bombarded with words from family, to which Matthew responded, and to which I said nothing. I smiled, but that was it. We had about two more hours before supper, so I excused myself from the uproar of the Crawleys talking over each other and was followed to my room by Matthew, who took his hand away from my back and waist very little as we ascended the stairs, which I was glad of.

Once we were in the room I went to sort out my necklace which had tangled itself and Matthew sat on the bed. Once I'd finished sorting out jewellery, Matthew reached out his hand and said, "Come here." So I smiled and obeyed him and went to sit next to him. He looked lovingly at me, and reassured me with, "Mary, you have no idea how much I love you. I will _not_, under any circumstances, with any stretch of the imagination, let you go through this alone, no matter how hard you argue with me." So I kissed him and said,  
"I'm not going to argue... Merry Christmas!" I kissed him again before he said,  
"So, you're pregnant and you refuse to argue? It must be Christmas!" I laughed and so did he, so he put his hands on my waist and gave me another long kiss, which I cherished. We didn't often get time together in the day – not when we were completely alone and I felt I could show him my love for him. I certainly didn't expect to get any time alone on Christmas day. I felt his lips on mine and felt my cheeks go ruby red, but it wasn't from embarrassment, but from love. I loved him too much to stop myself from blushing. His lips were warm and soft, and they eased my thoughts and threw all of my troubles out of the window, which is what I needed – a clear mind and a caring husband to put my concerns at ease. As our lips disconnected I felt his hand on my stomach. I wasn't showing, but I knew I would do soon, and Matthew was apparently wondering when as well, when he asked, not finishing and expecting me to know what he was talking about,  
"How long have you...?" I just took a deep breath and finished his sentence for him, as he was clearly not going to do it himself, and said,  
"Been pregnant? Doctor Clarkson said I'm about three months and that I'll begin to show soon. In a month or so." He smiled at me and kissed me gently, before saying,  
"How long have you known about..?" But I interrupted him, which perhaps I shouldn't have done, but I think he was actually quite pleased that I stopped his words to save him having to try to find a way to phrase his question. I finished his question with,  
"About me being pregnant?" I'll never forget the way he nodded at me slightly, smiled lovingly, and squeezed my hand. Anyway, I answered his question, saying, "Since yesterday." And then I could see he was going to try to contradict me, but I stopped him in his tracks, "Yes, I told you I went to get something for my cold because I thought that it would be the best Christmas present if I told you today – you know, the sort that I could never buy for you." I didn't know how he'd react, I thought that perhaps he might be a little cross, but he lifted my hand, kissed it and said to me,  
"And you were right – you couldn't have given me a better Christmas present, my darling." I then let out a sigh of relief and realised that I'd been crying when I swallowed a tear. I lifted my hand to wipe away the drops from my cheeks, but Matthew got there first. I felt his hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears. He brought his hand up to my forehead and swept a hair off of my face. His other hand was still locked in mine, and I put my spare hand on his shoulder and kissed him.

About... well, it must have been about ten or perhaps fifteen minutes later, Matthew and I came back downstairs hand in hand and ventured into the drawing room, which I didn't want to do, but I knew I'd have to face my family sooner or later; I was just hoping for later rather than sooner. Matthew and I were about to go in, but I stopped just before we reached the door. I couldn't go any further – I was stiff as a statue until Matthew saw the fear in my eyes and in my posture and gave my hand a squeeze and gave me a look that said, _We can do this – together we'll manage_. So I trusted him with all my heart and let him lead me in. As we went in everybody looked at us and I tried (and failed) to stop them talking about me with, "Who won the argument?" Everybody looked at us as if to say, _Really, Mary, do you think we care about that?_ They all started questioning us again, apart from Granny, that is, who said very smugly, in response to the question I had posed when we walked in,  
"I did." But I then got bombarded with people talking at me, but I didn't really want to talk about it and they seemed to get the picture. Granny then said, in an attempt to drag the attention away from me, "Come now, Mary is pregnant, not dying." We all laughed, although Tom laughed a little less than the rest of us, remembering that in some cases – my sister's and his wife's – being pregnant can be the same thing as dying. I felt so sorry for him, but then Sybbie gurgled, reminding Tom and I that we still had Sybbie as a memory of our wonderful Sybil, and reminding everyone how wonderful children are. Thankfully, everyone's attention went to Sybbie and we spent the rest of the afternoon having a normal, family conversation with a few Christmas games thrown in here and there, too. I realised then just how much I loved Christmas. It seemed such a magical time of year and there were never any important disputes between anyone in the family; yes, there _were_ always some disputes of some description – if they weren't there then it wasn't Christmas, but they were all just a bit of fun. The time shot by, though, and eventually Carson walked in, purposefully and announced that dinner was ready. We all got up, ready to go through, but Matthew and I last. We stood with everyone else, but didn't walk out with them. Carson looked briefly at me – enough time for me to nod at him to say that he should go and that we needed some time alone. But Matthew didn't know why I'd kept him behind and I could see he was anxious, so I tried to put him at ease with,  
"Look, don't worry! I just think we need to talk about... us." He smiled and let me continue, so I said, "I just want to make sure nobody other than family finds out about us until it's more obvious and they can figure it out for themselves." But he didn't let me say anything else, and kissed me gently, followed by his,  
"Nobody will find out about us. I promise. About you, me or about our child. Not yet – not from me." I rose to my tip toes so that my lips matched the level of his and kissed him. I looked him in the eye and we walked side by side into the dining room, seeing everyone else was already sitting and waiting for us. I hurried to sit down, as did Matthew and I smiled at him from across the table. I'd been placed between Aunt Rosamund and Edith, whilst Matthew was between Tom and Granny. I wasn't sure who had the worst deal! But at least Granny, Aunt Rosamund and Isobel weren't all together! It was a wonderful meal. It was a very talkative few hours or so – all of us drunk with the spirit of Christmas, and perhaps by the end a few of us were truly drunk – with the wine!

I seem to remember that after the meal, we stayed up later than usual, which we always did on Christmas day, but it seemed abnormally late, even for Christmas, though it may not have been. It's quite possible that I'm remembering wrong – perhaps I was just too tired after the events of the day. After all, it hadn't been a normal Christmas for any of us. So, after the meal and once Matthew and I were planning to head upstairs for bed I spotted young James walking across the hall, likely going to the drawing room to serve drinks as he'd been doing the entire evening. So I said to him, "Oh, James." And he turned to me saying,  
"Yes, Milady." So I asked him,  
"Could you please tell Anna that I'm waiting for her in my room?" He nodded, submissively and retraced his tracks across the hall from where he'd just come as I said, "Merry Christmas, James," to him, but he didn't answer so I had to assume he was out of earshot. Although Matthew should have gone straight to his dressing room, he escorted me to our bedroom instead. I stopped before I opened the door and turned to face him. I was about to say, _I love you, Matthew_, but he got there before me and said to me,  
"I love you, my darling Mary." I could have followed that up with what I had planned to say, but I just kissed him and said,  
"See you in a minute." So he kissed my forehead and turned to wall down the corridor to his dressing room. I went into our room, already missing him, but I soon had Anna's company. As I was getting undressed we had a catch up on what menagerie of things had happened downstairs, as it was Christmas, so it was bound to be a very excitable, rather abnormal day of events, and how many rows had taken place upstairs. She and I laughed more than I think we'd ever laughed together before, and we really were more like friends than employee and employer. Anna was then and still is now more a friend to me than most of my 'friends', and seemed secure enough in her feeling of being around me to admit that she'd heard and briefly seen us when the family rushed out into the hall on finding I was pregnant, and that she knew all about it. Once she'd admitted it I said to her, in confidence, "I don't mind you knowing, Anna. I can trust you more than I can trust some members of my own family." To which she smiled at, I think feeling great pride in what I'd told her, but I continued anyway, with, "Actually, I'm glad you know if I'm quite honest, but I'd prefer if nobody else downstairs knows. No doubt Carson will find out, but I don't want the entire world to find out yet. People will know, in a month or so, when I begin to show and I won't be able to keep it a secret or deny it any longer, but I'm glad you know. And I can trust you can keep it to yourself... well, yourself and Bates." She tried to contradict my thinking, starting to say how she wouldn't tell her husband, but I stopped her mid-flow when I told her that I've told Matthew almost every one of my secrets and that it was because I could trust him. I finished with, "Anna, I really don't mind if Bates knows. I trust you and I trust him. He would never let it out to the world, but there are some people downstairs who would, so I'd just keep the knowledge of it as little known as you can." But Matthew walked in and silenced Anna. It was clear that she felt much less comfortable around him than she did around me, but I think that's understandable as she was the one who had dressed and undressed me for more than a decade. As she left I said to her, "Merry Christmas, Anna!" She said,  
"Merry Christmas!" back and smiled at me, I think as a; _Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me and congratulations_. I climbed into bed with Matthew and nestled close to him as he put a protective arm around my shoulder and I fell into the crook of his arm and put my arm over his body. I'll never leave behind the way he told me multiple times the way he loved me and the number of times we kissed before we finally got to sleep in the small hours of the morning. If anything, actually, I love him more now than I did back then, which is quite tricky to believe.

So there's the story of my Christmas in 1921 – probably the best Christmas I've ever had. It was an amazing Christmas and I miss it, but one like that could never be reconstructed – not in a million years, but I wouldn't change it for the world. It certainly was one to remember! Merry Christmas everyone!

* * *

_Well, I promised a Downton Christmas story this week, and here it is! I'm monumentally excited for this Christmas because of the Christmas specials of Doctor Who, Call the Midwife, and above all, Downton Abbey. I hope you enjoyed the story, and thank you for all your support for my stories. And as Mary has just said, Merry Christmas everyone!  
Zip Goes A Million_


End file.
